


Born on the Fourth of July

by avintagekiss24



Category: Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Sex, Birthday Smut, Brooklyn, F/M, Fireworks, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fourth of July, Orgasm, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 06:19:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15213044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avintagekiss24/pseuds/avintagekiss24
Summary: Okoye and Steve on his 100th birthday.





	Born on the Fourth of July

The Captain and the General have come to an agreement after quite a few long conversations about it. He loves Wakanda, he really does, but he’s a Brooklyn kid. The street hot dogs, the smell of trash wafting through the air, the incessant police sirens and honking cars; it’s home. She would sigh heavily at every mention of it, but those big blue-green eyes eventually won her over. So now, they spend their winters and springs in Wakanda, and their summers and autumns in Brooklyn. T’Challa teased her endlessly when she first approached the idea with him but assured her that Ayo was more than capable of handling her responsibilities while she’s away. He sent her off with his blessing, and a shitty smirk playing on his lips.

 

She hated it at first, being in America that is. There were only two things she would look forward to about her impending “vacation”; vanilla bean frappuccinos from Starbucks and today. This day has quickly become one of her favorites for a multitude of reasons, but today is especially special and she has big plans for them both. She wakes earlier than usual to get in her run and to get her liquid cocaine while he sleeps in. It sounds silly. Captain America sleeping in, but this is one of the only days that he obliges her. She holds tight to her green and white cup as she jogs up the six flights of stairs to his- _their_ apartment. The door sticks a little, so she turns the knob and pushes her hip against it, bumping into it three or four times before it finally pops open.

 

It’s quiet still as the sun begins to peak into the kitchen window, spilling along the floor. She hangs her keys next to the door and finishes off her drink before removing her Nikes and padding through their humble, one bedroom, thirty-two hundred dollar a month abode. She slips into their bedroom which is still shrouded in darkness. His breaths are deep and steady. She’s noticed the difference over the past year or two. At first, his breathing was light and airy; he wasn’t really asleep, he was just napping, pretending to sleep. He couldn’t sleep at first. The mattress was too soft, the air was too still, the quiet was too quiet for him. He couldn’t get his brain to stop. But now, he sinks into that California king that she talked him into. He cuddles up with her and three pillows, covers his head with the fluffy light blue comforter she picked out and he sleeps. Deep. Hard. She’s noticed the difference.

 

She moves into the bathroom and starts the shower, hoping that the twenty minutes she has to wait before the water actually gets hot doesn’t wake him. She jumps in, running her hands through her short, curly hair, T’Challa’s words floating through her head, making her smile.

 

  _“Your old age is softening you.”_

_“I don’t think it’s her age,” Shuri quips, “I think it’s the New Yorker that’s softening her.” She bends her fingers in air quotes as Okoye shoots her a death stare, “If you know what I mean.”_

_T’Challa laughs quietly before smiling genuinely at his long-time friend, “I like the hair. It’s a nice change.”_

She showers quickly, fogging up the mirror sufficiently before she makes her leave. She wraps up in his favorite towel and tip toes back into their room, sliding open the bottom drawer of their shared dresser and pulling out her outfit for the day. She dries and shimmies into the skin tight dress, before grabbing the small triangle shaped hat to finish her ensemble. She moves back into the kitchen, placing the blue hat on her head and cocking it to the side. She opens his record player and skips her hand over his massive collection and decides on Jimmy Dorsey, placing the record carefully in the player and lowering the needle. The old horns fill the small kitchen as she bops around, pulling out pans and utensils, and random articles of food.

 

It isn’t long before he stirs. He pokes his head out from underneath the mountain of pillows and comforter, his eyes squinted as he stretches and looks around the small bedroom for her. The music wafts in his direction and he tilts his head toward the partially open door and then back at his phone to find the time. Text message after text message displays on his screen from his friends, but he ignores them all and sets the sleek iPhone back on it’s round charger. He rolls over onto his back and throws his feet onto the carpet, running his hands through his now short blonde hair and his down his beardless face. She’s still a little angry about that one.

 

The General turns on her heel to face the living room and leans against the counter as she hears his movement. She pulls at her dress and fiddles with the hat once more, before smoothing her hands down the skirt. She picks her head up and takes a deep breath as she hears the bedroom door creaking open and catches a glimpse of him throwing the hand towels that they fought over to the ground after wiping away the water from his lips and chin. She stands up straight and places her index and middle finger to the corner of her eye in a perfect salute as he steps into view.

 

He laughs loudly as her perfect frame comes into view, causing a brilliant smile to cross her just as brilliant face. She stands tall in her blue halter top and red and white stripped skirt, with her matching blue hat adorning her head, just as the dancers did when he made his debut to the world all those years ago. His eyes scan down her body, her full bosom nearly falling out of that very small, blue halter top and that skirt barely covering her ample, round behind. She bops her hips a little, laughing lightly as she teases him. God, he is a lucky man.

 

“What’s all this?”

 

“All what, Captain?”

 

He moves right up to her and places his large hands on her hips, pulling her body into his, “My favorite song is playing, you’re all dressed up.”

 

“Is it right? I tried to find something similar to what they wore that night.”

 

“It’s perfect,” He smiles, the memories flooding back to him, “You look amazing.”

 

She smiles up at him, resting her hands on his biceps, “Anything for the birthday boy.”

 

He groans loudly, pulling another laugh from her as he rests his forehead on hers. He closes his eyes as she wraps her arms around his shoulders and scratches lightly at the nape of his neck, “I’m so old.” He mutters, lifting her effortlessly from her feet as he nuzzles his face into her neck.

 

“Hey now, one hundred is a blessing nowadays. Plus, you look fantastic. Do you work out or something?” She kids as his laughter rumbles against her body.

 

“Not really.” He scrunches up his face and sets her back on the ground, bending down to kiss her nose, “Man you smell good.”

 

“Nope, nope, nope. Hands off.” She swats at him, pushing out of his grasp before he gets any ideas, “I made plans for us before Sam and Bucky show up to steal you again.”

 

“You squeezed into that tight dress and you expect me to keep my hands to myself?”

 

“What do you want for breakfast Captain?” She ignores him.

 

“You.” He answers earnestly, reaching out for her again, his fingers grazing along her hip.

 

She swats at his hands and tries to move, “Too bad, I’m not on the menu this morning. What do you want for-“

 

He grabs her hip and pulls her back into him, tightening his grip around her before he envelopes his mouth around hers. She tries to fight him at first but her efforts are futile. His tongue bursts into her mouth and massages hers before he pulls away, only to grab her bottom lip with his teeth a second later. He’s way more confident with her now. He’s not that shy boy from Brooklyn anymore. He pulls her into a deep kiss and chuckles softly when a moan escapes her. He pulls away again and lowers his head, those big eyes of his filled with mischief. He leans in and places a kiss on her neck, cupping the other side of her face with his palm. She smiles lightly and her eyes flutter as he kisses her chest and then each breast as his fingers dig into her hips.

 

He drops down to his knees as his hands wander to her flat stomach and then back around to her lower back and butt as he peaks up at her through his incredibly long, dark eye lashes. He kisses her tummy and she shifts in his hands. He slides his hands down to her ass again, rubbing it affectionately before he cups it fully, squeezing her flesh in his capable hands. He pushes his hands underneath her flowy skirt and smiles widely when his fingers meet her naked flesh.

 

“What kind of plans did you make that involve you not wearing underwear?”

 

She shrugs happily, her head swimming in arousal, “You know, a little of this and a little of that.”

 

He chuckles again as he slides his fingers along her wet folds, causing her to jump suddenly. He grabs her hip to steady her but continues his slow, meticulous rhythm, coating his digits with her juices. He dips his head underneath her skirt and unleashes that pink tongue of his on her, smiling as she gasps and grabs hold of his shoulder. He swirls his tongue along her, sucking and flicking at her clit, pulling away to rub her with his fingers occasionally. He devours his breakfast with a fervor as her skirt envelopes him, causing beads of sweat to appear along his forehead. She digs her fingernails into his shoulder as she holds onto him, her hips rotating to their own rhythm against his lips and nose. She throws her head back as she mewls loudly, pushing her hips forward, her body tensing harshly as her muscles tighten.

 

After a while, she’s not even sure she can continue to stand as her legs begin to burn. The anticipation of her orgasm, his wet tongue, his strong fingers work her into a frenzy as his one hand still grips her hip to force her still. She bites her bottom lip as the electricity builds in her veins and her lust begins to pool in her stomach. It won’t be long now, and the Captain knows it. Her thighs begin to shake involuntarily. Her sex dripping and swollen, her walls tight as he pushes his fingers inside of her. He pumps his fingers into her only twice as he sucks on her pink pearl and she comes undone at the seams. Her orgasm rips through her as he continues to finger her, his tongue still working its magic.

 

She nearly falls over from it all as her legs give out from underneath her, but he’s there to catch her. He helps her down to the floor as her chest rises and falls harshly. She pushes her back against the cabinets as she breathes heavily and runs her hand over her forehead. The Captain pulls her into his lap, pushing the material away to expose her breasts before he pushes his chest to hers. He wants to feel her skin. She wraps her arms around his shoulders once more and presses her forehead to his, her eyes closed as she smiles stupidly.

 

“It’s your birthday, I should have given you head.” She says after a moment.

 

“The day is still young, General.”

 

They just sit together in silence for a while, the record scratching, the uncooked food sitting on the counter untouched. They talk in hushed voices, giggling softly as they play with each others’ fingers. He walks his index and middle finger up her palm and then links their hands together as she laughs at something he’s said, wrapping her free hand around the back of his neck. This is the best birthday he thinks he’s ever had. Loud knocks at their old wooden door break into the happy couples’ perfect morning as two familiar voices ring through the apartment.

 

“Stevie boy! You know what time it is baby!” Sam’s excited tone bursts into their atmosphere.

 

“Born on the fourth of July.” Bucky sings, “Come on man, it’s Operation try and get Steve drunk time.”

 

The General smiles softly as she kisses the bridge of his nose, “They get earlier and earlier every year.”

 

“Yeah,” He sighs a little, nodding his head, “They mean well.”

 

“They love you.”

 

“Maybe so. About those plans of yours…” He trails off.

 

She clicks her tongue and shoots him a finger gun, “Go. Have fun. Just try and be back before the show.”

 

“Always.”

 

Hour pass. The day is now night. Operation get Steve drunk has, as usual, turned into operation Sam and Bucky get shit faced as Steve watches on in delight. He’s impressed though, Sam made it to five shots of Tequila this year before getting slapped in the face by the waitress. After six beers, Bucky only had three shots before he was painting the porcelain toilet. Steve is reigning champ once again. He closes the door to their apartment behind him softly after carrying them both home and locks it before he begins his walk home. He makes his way right to the roof of their building, bypassing their apartment, and heads to the edge, plopping down beside her.

 

She’s wrapped in a blanket, as it’s unusually cool in New York for this time of year. She leans into him, letting out a deep, content breath as he pulls her into his warm body. Loud pops begin sounding off as the firework show illuminates the dark sky. Pink and purple, blue and yellow, orange and green sparkles fill the vast sky before them as they sit quietly hand in hand. This is her second favorite part of being in America.  She glances over at him after a while, watching him as his eyes light up with each explosion. Scratch that, this is her third favorite thing, right after Starbucks and him.

 

“You did all this for me?” He whispers jokingly, “You really went all out.”

 

“Anything for the birthday boy.” She smiles back.

 

He kisses her forehead and rubs her nose with his, “I love you, Koye.”

 

“I love you, Steven.”


End file.
